Let it Snow by Nancy Warren

Author:Nancy Warren [Warren, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ambleside Publishing
Published: 2013-11-21T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Rob felt Marisa’s fingers trailing downward, over his belly, following the length of his jacket to the thigh where it ended. Then her hand snuck underneath and began inching upward with obvious erotic intent.

He quivered with anticipation, even as he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. He didn’t want this, he realized. He didn’t want some furtive making out on the corner of a rooftop.

“I want our first time to be amazing,” he whispered in her ear, feeling the soft fall of her hair against his lips, smelling roses and almonds from whatever fancy shampoo she used.

He kissed her cheek. “I want to spread you out on my bed and touch and taste every inch of you. I don’t want to be trying to reach you through your jeans. It’s too much like high school.”

Her hand didn’t stop its journey, but she didn’t try to unzip him either, merely caressed him through his jeans which was a decent cross between heaven and hell. As his cock began to take over from his brain, rooftop groping looked better by the second. “So, what are we going to do then? “

“We could talk.”

“Talk.” Her voice was husky and sexy.

He tried to think. “You could tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

“That’s pretty intimate.”

“Not as intimate as what I plan to do to you when we’re alone in my bed.”

They settled with him sitting on the bench and her in his lap. By tacit agreement, there was no more delving beneath clothes, but they kept each other on simmer all the same. A rub here, a caress here, a kiss there. It was like uber-foreplay .

Rob promised himself that for every hour they spent up here torturing each other, they’d spend two in his bed bringing each other pleasure.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked him.

“What did you do for your last holiday,” he asked her.

“I went to Paris.”

Oh, that was so typical of little rich girls. “To buy shoes?”

There was a moment’s rigidity from the woman in his lap. Then he felt her shrug. “Sure. Shoes and other things. You?”

“I flew to Ecuador to help build a school.” God, could he sound any more nauseatingly smug? The big eco-philanthropist. Besides, his trip hadn’t been all unselfishness. “And I hiked an ancient Mayan trade route I’ve always wanted to hike. Plus snorkeled in the Galapagos.”

The flames flickered, but not so high anymore. He’d used up all the wood from the rotting table outside, and this one hadn’t been sitting out in the elements. It seemed remarkably strong to him. Still, if worse came to worst, he’d do his best to break it up. It was going to be a long night.

“I guess we are pretty different,” he said, rubbing his hands over her chest, teasing himself with the mounds he’d soon be seeing and tasting. So she flew to Paris for shoes. Everyone couldn’t be Mother Teresa.

“Maybe we’re not so very different,” she said slowly. “I really went to Paris to nurse my grandmother after she had a stroke.

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